


I Believe in Love

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Crown of Madness, Gen, Mentions of Blood, everyone is hurt, mentions of near-death (I think), named after a barlowgirl song, recovering, yay second fic of the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Inspired by abd-illustrates “Crown of Madness” speedpaint and this other masterpiece you can find on his tumblr (it’s fanart of Paddy and MAlark), named after the barlowgirl song b/c I like their music and it reminds me of driving to school with my mom on foggy mornings.In ACTUAL synopsis, Malark and Paddy stumble into their in room to patch themselves up. A bad headache mixed with awful memories and some nasty wounds leaves Malark in a lot more pain than he shows. Paddy tries to help.
Relationships: Paddock "Paddy" Whitlaw/Malark Dundragon (sort of)
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	I Believe in Love

**Author's Note:**

> TWs in tags,  
> Also, I feel guilty for spamming the HHLR tag with fics but I’m on a break between a 420-something page novel that should have been 320 pages and a roughly 500 page super edition. No, I did not plan on THS being 420 pages in Comic Sans 12 point font on A5 paper but it’ll be about 300 something when I jump to Bookman Old Style font.  
> ANYWAYS, into the fray!  
> (P.S. My Alpha reader [like Beta reader but she sees my manuscripts and my fanfictions versus just the one and before literally anyone else does] is dyslexic, which is part of why I use Comic Sans. That and it flows better and makes the villains comedic.)  
> NOW INTO THE FRAY!

Somehow, they had made it.

Exhausted, bloodied, and so weak they seemed drunk, Paddy and Malark stumbled towards their room. Thankfully, they were on the floor just above the inn’s bar, which was well sound-proofed, instead of the top floor like the others. Paddy glanced over his shoulder. Gwing, Rook, and Hashaan were glancing between a (likely drunk) Nagar and the stars. The white dragonborn was facedown at the foot of the climb that Paddy and Malark were already halfway up. While Hashaan nudged Nagar (with a disgusted look on her face) using her boot, Gwing glanced up and nodded to Paddy that they could leave. Ducking into the hall after Malark, Paddy noticed the assassin struggle with the keys as his hands shook.

Once they were inside, Malark crumpled on the bed closest to the window, pulling his legs up and moving as if to untie his shoe. For a second, everything was fine. Paddy had unclipped his cape and was in the middle of undoing his own boots when he heard a short, pained gasp. “You okay, Malark?” He asked, voice hoarse from shouting so much. Who knew bandits could be so hard to fight?

Running his hands up under his hood and into his hair, Malark laid back with a groan. “Migraine. It’s worse. Wounds aren’t helping.” The words were said past gritted teeth, each one strained like it was lined with thorns.

Getting up, Paddy crossed the distance and pressed the back of his hand to Malark’s cheek. He wasn’t warm, thankfully (other than his usual human warmth). “Well, at least you don’t have a fever.” Smiling, he sat down, wincing when the bed creaked and Malark stiffened up. He sent a smile Malark’s way, but the assassin had his palms pressed into his eyes. Paddy didn’t push. Instead, he bent down and untied Malark’s shoes, lying them gently on the plank floors before stripping his socks off and dropping them nearby. He grabbed a wet cloth and carefully pulled Malark’s shirt away from his stomach, checking the sutures there and gently wiping some of the dried blood away. Other than the gashes that were already treated, he seemed fine.

By the time Malark looked up, Paddy was at the other side of the room by the sink, pulling his bloodied shirt off and frowning at it. “Thanks.” It was quiet, barely reaching even his ears (which were good even by elf standards), but he nodded all the same. Carefully setting his wooden mask aside, he spelled his shirt and pants so they were as good as new, washed the caked mud and blood from his skin, wiped away his makeup, and then redressed in his nightclothes. The last time he had slept with his makeup on, he’d been facedown in the pillow and they had been forced to pay for “damages”. Malark seemed asleep by then, so he checked that the assassin’s bandages weren’t too tight, and that he didn’t have any surprise wounds, then went to his own bed.

Three hours later, he woke to a weird, stifled sobbing noise.

Sitting up, he felt a pulse of shock run through him when he realised it was _Malark._ The assassin was sitting up in bed, knees pulled to his chest and hands in his hair as he choked out tears and stifled cries. “Malark? Are you okay?”

He got up and went to the assassin’s side. His hood was gone, as were the mask and his usual bandages. Shoulders shaking, he glanced at Paddy. “I’m—I’m fine. My head just hurts. Really, really badly.” He coughed wetly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Without thinking, Paddy pulled Malark to his chest. Then he froze and asked, “Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

It was weird, seeing Malark like this. Carefully, Paddy laid back until Malark was lying on top of him, his back to Paddy’s chest. It was slightly awkward—Malark was taller, albeit only by a minute amount, and they had never done something so intimate before. For a moment, Paddy expected an elbow to the midsection. Even more so when he carefully ran his fingers from Malark’s shoulders to his hairline. “Mind if I…?”

“Go ahead, I trust you.” He got a glimpse of the assassin’s eyes fluttering shut as he ran his fingers up into Malark’s hair. For a few moments, neither spoke as Paddy teased out Malark’s bangs or rubbed circles into his head. “I knew some of those guys. From the guild.”

Realising he meant the bandits, Paddy took a breath. “I’m sorry. Do you—do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Honestly, I kind of just want to sleep.” He abruptly stiffened up, bandaged fingers going to his temple. “Doesn’t…seem like that’s…happening tonight.” With an almost joking tone, he added, “Know any sleeping spells?”

“Well, I guess I could use Crown of Madness but—”

“Can you?” For a moment, their gazes met.

“Are you sure?” A second passed but Malark had already nodded. “No, are you _really_ sure?”

“Please? I know it’s a lot to ask.” After a moment, Malark glanced away. “Actually, nevermind. You’re just as exhausted as I am, I shouldn’t be—” He froze when Paddy pressed the tips of his fingers to Malark’s temples. He knew the spell was working even before the leaves appeared and their soft autumnal glow filled the room. The assassin’s body settled into the curve of his own, head falling back as a soft sigh escaped him.

When it was finished, Malark was deep asleep—for real this time. In the fading glow, Paddy could see his chest rising and falling, and gently let the assassin’s head rest on the pillow. Eyes heavy, he pulled the covers around them both, too tired to get under them, and snuggled into the pillow. It was stupid to think Malark would be so friendly in the morning. Beyond idiotic to think they could be anything more than friends. Reaching out, Paddy delicately stroked the other man’s cheek.

He could have sworn Malark smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I know this isn’t really related to the story but I went on tumblr and a while ago I drew some fanart of Malark and Paddy (username is goldstonewolf, for those of you interested) and I GOT REBLOGGED BY THE—HEH—MAIJ BLOG DID THE—MY PIC—AAAAAHHHH!  
> Okay, got the fanboying out. Uh, Malark’s migraine is based off one I had in late December of 2019 that was so bad it took five hours and several pills to sleep. I don’t cry much anymore (only if I’m having a panic or anxiety attack or if I’m beyond exhausted and receive bad news), but I was sobbing like it was third grade. Thanks for reading; I’ll be going to write another fic now. Go watch HHLR on YouTube again!  
> Back into the fray!


End file.
